Tickle
by Jasque
Summary: Regina has a secret friend. He spins her tales and together they travel the world. This is his last visit to her. A story of how Rumpelstiltskin got a hold of Regina's tears.


#AskRobert happened and I was attacked by a ficlet itch that won't go away. I enjoyed writing it and misterpointy beta'ed it.

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Her friend is late and she does not know how much longer she can stay awake. Mother would surely notice her absence by now. Being the recipient of mother's displeasure is not something that she wants.

The chilly night air does nothing to keep her awake. If anything, it is lulling her to sleep. Her only companion is her silver hand mirror, a gift from her friend. Well, it is not exactly a gift; her friend said she has to pay for it. He has yet to state the price, but she is certain she could persuade her papa to provide her with whatever treasures her friend needs.

The mirror is a pretty thing, but its look does not concern her—what is important is its magical ability. Her friend said she only needs to call out his name and the mirror will transport her to their secret garden, so here she is waiting at their secret place and losing her patience with every passing minute.

"Sorry for being late, dearie. I had to wrestle a giant fish."

She turns to face the source of the voice and beams at her friend, her irritation and the coldness forgotten upon seeing him. He is clad in his usual leather attire and his scaly skin sparkles under the moonlight.

"You smell like one too, Rum!"

Her friend, Rumpelstiltskin, grins and skips the remaining distance to where she is sitting. She smiles at him and he bares his stained teeth in return, trying to look menacing. The action only puts her into fits of giggles.

Always one for theatrics, Rumpelstiltskin bows with a flourish and asks, "What story does the little princess want to hear tonight? Or does she want to go travelling to enchanted places?"

The six-year-old girl knows exactly what she wants. Tales of magical bears that she heard from eavesdropping on gossipmongering servants are not enough and she needs to know more. "I want to know about the Gummi Glen and Gummiberry Juice! Daniel refuses to tell me anything and mother said I am living in the clouds. The servants are too afraid of mother to tell me the stories and papa thinks I dreamed it up!" she says in quick succession.

Rumpelstiltskin grins and conjures a picnic blanket and a basket full of sugary cakes. Unable to contain her excitement, she throws herself on the blanket and looks up expectantly at her friend. He shakes his head as he lowers himself onto the blanket and spins her tales of a family of talking bears and their magical juice, telling her of the duke who is intent on finding the Gummiberry Juice to gain power to overthrow his king.

It was almost midnight when Rumpelstiltskin finishes his tale, and his companion watches at him with awe. "Rum, could you bring me to see them someday?"

"That depends."

"Depends on what?"

Rumpelstiltskin cocks his head and without warning, he lunges at her and tickles her sides. She feels his clawed nails mercilessly scratch her, but oddly there is neither pain nor breaking of skin. The stubble on his face rubbing against her cheeks is another surprise, and she shuts her eyes against the onslaught. She squeals in delight and fruitlessly tries to tickle him back. She is naturally a ticklish person and soon she finds tears streaming down her cheeks.

Certain she'll urinate if he does not stop, she curls in a fetal position and clutches her stomach; she catches a glimpse of his face when she opens her eyes. His bug-like eyes look almost human with a hint of warmth that she does not remember ever gracing his face. As suddenly as it started, the tickling stops.

When she pushes herself up, she's breathing heavily. Rumpelstiltskin stills her hands just as she's about to wipe away the tears. "Don't. Here...let me," he conjures a small glass tube and holds it to her cheek.

"What are you doing, Rum?"

"Collecting your tears."

Once done, he stoppers the tube and a look of satisfaction crosses his face. She finds it odd that he wants her tears so she asks him why.

Rumpelstiltskin tells her it is his price for the mirror. She tells him it is a silly payment, but her friend insists it is what he wants and she does not want to question him further.

"Rum, I'm tired," she yawns and rubs at her eyes. Her vision blurs and everything looks like a blob of ink.

She can feel him lifting her and lay her head on what she assumes is his shoulder. She snuggles into his embrace and expects to smell fish. Instead of a fishy odour, she smells the familiar scent of her duvet.

"Goodbye, Regina. You shall not remember me come morning," he whispers.

Regina mumbles a goodbye and with a twirl of his hand, Rumpelstiltskin disappears in a puff of purple smoke.


End file.
